


Sinfully Sweet

by ArgentLives



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (sort of?), F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Sex, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:08:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5482745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda likes things sweet, so Iris decides to whip her up a little something special for their anniversary. </p><p>[aka: licking icing off of cake tastes good, but licking icing off your significant other is even better]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinfully Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 7 (Milestones, Fluff, and Smut) of Flarrow Femslash Week; this is...my first time really trying smut and it's super non-explicit because I literally couldn't do that if I tried but it's sort of...vaguely smutty? I guess?

Linda is usually the one who does the cooking in their relationship. And the baking. Lots of it, too—and it’s not because Iris doesn’t offer to help, or because she can’t, but just because Linda _likes_  baking and cooking. The only thing Iris actually likes baking is brownies, and while that’s nice every once in a while, there’s only so much of it one can take. Not Iris, apparently—she could probably eat them every day and not get tired of them, but Linda won’t let them be that boring. And Iris is usually willing to be adventurous, anyway, whether it’s with food or—okay, wait. That’s totally not the point.

The _point_ is that she’s just gotten a message from her girlfriend, a picture of a mixing bowl and a lot of all-too familiar ingredients scattered across the counter, and a prompt  _‘making you something special ;)’_  immediately following it. Which is why she’s understandably surprised, because that’s usually her thing, but she supposes it is Iris’s turn to do something special for their anniversary, considering the five-course meal Linda made them last year. They’d had leftovers for weeks.

 _‘omg. is that the makings of cream cheese frosting I see?’_ Linda sends, bouncing excitedly in her seat because that’s her  _favorite_ , and smiling wide when her phone buzzes two seconds later to reveal the message _‘duh.’_

 _‘you’re the best. i love u’_  she sends, and Iris responds with a  _‘ <3′. _

She spends the rest of the baseball game she’s supposed to be reporting on itching to get home, trying to guess what kind of cake Iris might be making, knowing it doesn’t really matter as long as her favorite icing is on top. She’s already pissed enough that she couldn’t get out of this game to begin with—Harold, CCPN’s other resident live-sports reporter, _knew_ that today was her and Iris’s anniversary, because of course they didn’t exactly keep their relationship at work a secret, and yet he just had to go get food poisoning and land himself in the hospital. Which is how she got stuck here, covering for him, wanting nothing more than to be home with Iris in the apartment they share.

The game drags on, and on, and on—and honestly, baseball has never really been her favorite anyway; she’s a football kind of girl—so by the time it finally lets out and she’s gotten all the coverage she needs, she’s speeding home so fast she’s surprised she doesn’t get into an accident. She only remembers to stop and pick up flowers for Iris at the very last second. Roses, not irises, because despite it being her namesake she knows Iris doesn’t actually like the little purple-and-blue flowers.

Linda nearly trips over herself in her eagerness get inside, and she shrugs out of her coat and toes off her boots, tossing them aside the minute she steps through the door. Idly, she notes that she doesn’t actually smell anything baking, which is odd. And yet, clutching the flowers behind her back and grinning so hard her face hurts, she realizes that the cake thing is nice, but she’s much more excited just to see Iris that not much else really matters.

They’ve been together for two years. _Two!_ Two beautiful, wonderful, crazy years, full of meta-humans and superheroes and so many things Linda never imagined her life would be, but the most important part is that it’s so _full_. And she’s never been happier. And fuck, she’s so in love. The thought leaves her feeling dizzy and high with elation, and it takes a moment before she can finally catch her breath again, although the pleasant buzz doesn’t quite leave her head.

“Iris!” she calls out, forcing herself not to run down the hallway and scoop her girlfriend into her arms, wherever she’s hiding. “Iris, I’m home!”

“In here!” Iris’s voice comes drifting out of the— _bedroom_? Okay, that’s…weird. Not the kitchen, so…maybe she was waiting for Linda to come back so they could bake together? She stands frozen for a moment, mulling it over, until Iris’s impatient “Hurry up!” cuts through her thoughts.

Deciding that Iris must have some sort of plan, Linda shrugs it off and turns the corner, stepping into the bedroom with a wide smile on her face. She brandishes the flowers in front of her, and opens her mouth with a ‘Happy Anniversary!’ on the tip of her tongue—only for the words to get caught in her throat, the bouquet falling from limp fingers as she takes in the sight before her. Her  _‘Happy Anniversary’_ comes out sounding more like she’s choking on air, and her eyes widen in shock, her blood suddenly electric in her veins, because— _holy shit._

“Surprise!” Iris says, smirking at Linda’s reaction, clearly very pleased with herself. “Do you like what I made you?”

Iris hasn’t baked her a cake. Iris has definitely made her favorite icing, yes, and there’s a lot of it, but nope. Definitely no cake in sight. Because instead, Iris is almost completely naked, sitting up in their bed and grinning at Linda with eyes sparkling in delight. Naked except for the icing that’s spread across her breasts, carefully covering the skin there but still leaving very little to the imagination, and then spread in little heart designs over her stomach, and–oh _God._ It’s covering the space between her legs, too, the front of her crotch, like some ridiculous makeshift thong. Ridiculous but absolutely amazing, _Jesus Christ_. Linda can feel her mouth watering already, and she’s finding it really hard to speak.

Somehow, she manages a tiny “Oh my God,” and this time she does trip over herself in her haste to make it to the bed where Iris is waiting for her. She clambers onto it and notices with a burst of affection that Iris has even switched out the sheets to their bed, replaced them with some random, throwaway pair, no doubt anticipating the mess they’re about to make.

“So that’s a yes?” Iris grins at her, and Linda tackles her in lieu of responding, immediately placing hungry kisses on her neck, and down her chest, pausing to suck at the skin as she gets closer to the icing and oh— _oh,_ it’s so sweet, and Iris tastes so good, and she looks so good, and this is so, so _good_.

Iris laughs as Linda’s lips brush against her skin, laughs harder when she trails her fingers up her side—purposely, of course, because she knows Iris is ticklish—but the laughter cuts off abruptly, morphing into a gasp as Linda reaches her destination.

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair though?” Linda says, pausing with her mouth on Iris’s breast, which, honestly? That level of self-control, she deserves a medal, or something. “For both of us, I mean. You don’t get to taste any of your own icing—which is delicious, by the way—and I don’t get to feel your tongue all over me.”

“Ah, Lin, that’s where—” Iris breaks off with another gasp as Linda circles her tongue around Iris’s nipple, humming contentedly at the sweetness. Iris bites her lip to hold back another moan as Linda trails her tongue lower, and finally has to grab her chin to get her to stop. “Let me _finish_ ,” she breathes, skin flushed and warm, and it takes all of Linda’s willpower not to ignore her, to go back to trailing her tongue along the smooth skin, licking up all the icing, tasting every inch of her. That, and Iris’s hand cupping her face. “I was saying that that’s where you’re wrong. I can’t believe you’d underestimate me like that. Hold on—”

And then she has the nerve to actually get up, and Linda’s not even ashamed of the whine that escapes her throat at the sudden loss of contact.

“Thanks for the flowers,” Iris smiles, her cheeks dimpling as she scoops up the bouquet of roses Linda dropped on the floor that have miraculously remained intact, before she disappears into the kitchen with them, leaving Linda breathless and aching and oh-so-very impatient. In reality, it doesn’t take long for her to come back, but to Linda it feels like ages, and she’s almost embarrassed at the way her heartbeat speeds up as soon as Iris re-enters the room—this time sans-roses and clutching a big white bowl to her chest, full of, in Linda’s humble opinion, the most delicious concoction known to man.

“I made more,” Iris announces unnecessarily, placing the bowl on the little nightstand next to their bed and taking out the spreading spoon, making sure to get a nice scoop of it on there. “Take your clothes off, and I’ll make us even.”

Her girlfriend is a genius. A sugar-coated, sinfully sweet genius.

Linda is halfway out of her shirt when she notices the icing clinging between Iris’s bare thighs, and she freezes with her arms over her head, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. The icing on Iris's stomach and breasts, she notices, is smeared from where Linda’s tongue had dipped and licked and explored, and her skin is wet and glistening in the dim light from the desk lamp, and Linda sort of needs to be touching her again, like, right now, immediately. Iris frowns and clambers on to the bed to pull Linda’s shirt the rest of the way off, but as soon as her hands go to the buttons of Linda’s jeans, Linda shakes her head no. Iris gives her a quizzical look, but Linda only swallows hard and puts a hand on Iris’s chest, still sticky and wet, and pushes her back gently.

“Lay down,” she commands, and she’s really not surprised to hear her own voice shaking. Iris opens her mouth to ask why, so Linda cuts her off with a kiss, climbing on top of her and pressing her down until she’s lying flat on her back again.

“Let me finish with you first,” Linda says, placing a kiss on her collarbone, and then in between her breasts. “Please. And then you can do me.” She takes her sweet time before reaching where she’d left off, resuming her careful exploration of Iris’s skin with her mouth, trailing her fingers up Iris’s leg all the while. Her tongue glides across Iris’s lower abdomen, the muscle tight and hard there, and all she can think is that all those cross-fit classes are _really_ paying off.

Iris’s eyes go wide, her fingers clutching at the bed sheets as Linda plunges her tongue lower. Linda can feel her trembling beneath her, and God, it’s so good. _So good_. “Okay,” Iris finally manages with a gasp, as Linda licks her lips greedily. “Okay, but h-hurry up, I n-need to have a taste, too. And you’re still wearing f- _far_ too many clothes.”

“Mmm, be patient,” Linda murmurs, and no matter what Iris says, Linda knows her girlfriend likes it slow, knows exactly how and where to move her tongue, all the right motions to leave Iris gasping for breath and begging for more as she goes to work between her legs. The first thing she does after Iris comes, her lips deliciously sweet and wet from the icing and from Iris herself, is to crawl back up and kiss Iris long and hard because it’s only fair, really, that she share how good it tastes. Iris hums happily against her lips, and Linda pulls away to catch her licking them, which—God, that should be illegal.

“Your turn,” Iris says, smiling wickedly, and lifts a hand up to wipe away a smear of icing on Linda’s cheek. She reaches over to grab the bowl of icing from the nightstand and levels Linda with an expectant look, eyeing her hungrily up and down. Linda is more than happy to comply.

 


End file.
